Push
by SouthernChickie
Summary: After Hathor (season 1) Sam helps Daniel deal with what the Goa'uld did to him.


Sam put the bags of groceries down and tried the handle. She'd been knocking for five minutes. The neighbors were going to think she was a disgruntled ex-girlfriend if Daniel didn't let her in soon. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed. She could hear the phone ringing inside the apartment, but as had been the case for two days... there was no answer. The answering machine picked up.

"It's me," Sam said, hearing her voice echo inside. "I'm at the door. I brought you some groceries. I just wanted to see how you were doing." She paused, listening for any sign of life beyond the locked door. "Daniel, you're scaring me. Please let me know you haven't done anything rash." She paused again. This time she heard shuffling and the door opened.

Daniel looked terrible. He hadn't shaved, his eyes were dull, his features were drawn, his hair sticking out in all directions. He had actually answered the door in his boxers and a t-shirt.

"I'm still alive," he said bluntly.

"You haven't been answering your phone," she explained, slipping her's back into her purse.

"I know."

"We were worried."

"So I've gathered."

Sam wanted to chastise him for worrying everybody so much. She wanted to yell at him that he could have at least picked up one of the easily hundred calls she, O'Neill, and Teal'c had made. She wanted to demand to know what he was thinking letting them think the worse. But, he looked so defeated and unlike himself. He looked sad. All the anger and frustration left her as soon as she laid eyes on him. Her only instinct was to hug him.

"You didn't have to," he broke the silence. His voice sounded as hollow as he looked.

"Of course we do. We're your friends," Sam insisted. "We'll always worry about you."

"I meant..." he nudged the grocery bags with his toe.

"You forget to eat under the best of circumstances," she said. "You look like you've lost weight already. I bet you haven't eaten since before Hathor arrived."

Daniel winced. "Don't say that name."

"Sorry," Sam apologized, leaning down to pick up one of the bags. She looked at Daniel expectantly, not breaking eye contact until he picked up the other bag and let her in.

She had been expecting his apartment to be a mess. Despite how seemingly unorganized his office was, his home had always been neat and ordered. Today, it was eerily clean. She could tell he had rearranged and deep cleaned. There wasn't a speck of dust to be seen, no loose papers, trade journals were in an orderly stack on the side table. The only indication anyone actively lived in the museum was the quilt in a heap in front of the floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto his balcony and the city.

Daniel brushed passed where she stood in the living room. "I'd say you don't have to stay, but I doubt you'll listen," he said as he put the groceries on the kitchen counter and leaving them there, not even looking to see what was inside the bag.

"The ice cream will melt," Sam said by way of answer and went to put everything away as Daniel went back to the quilt. She wasn't sure what she expected him to do, but when he sat straight on the floor, snuggled into the quilt and stared out the window-she knew that hadn't been it. Part of her felt bad for doing it, but a larger part of her recognized that it was important for her to invade his privacy and snoop around.

While putting away the groceries, she took inventory of what he had around and what he may have eaten recently. There was no sign of any food debris, not even take out containers, in the trash. The only thing she found were several wine bottles in an otherwise empty trash bin. The refrigerator had been cleaned out of any spoiled food, leaving condiments, butter, and cheese slices in a bare space until she added what she had brought. The cupboards were bare entirely. The usual chips, canned soup, and stale crackers had been cleaned out. His freezer had a couple pizzas and the ice cream she had purchased for him. His wine stash was low by four bottles... the number she found in the trash.

When she went into the living room, he was still staring blankly out the window oblivious to her presence, so she looked in his room... the bed was made and the carpet still had vacuum marks. The bathroom smelled like bleach, the towels were fresh, the mirror was smudge free. The two medicine bottles sat on the counter stood out to her. Other than OTC allergy medicine, Daniel didn't take anything regularly. She looked at the prescriptions, one was for sleeping pills, the other antibiotics. From the look of him and the number of pills still in the bottle, Daniel wasn't taking the sleeping pills. Mercifully, it looked like he was with it enough to be taking the antibiotics. She tried not to think about what they may have been prescribed for. It made her skin crawl knowing what had happened. She only wanted to deal with one ramification at a time.

Sam went back to the kitchen and started brewing coffee. The perfectly clean bean grinder and coffee pot were unnerving to see. They were probably the appliances Daniel used the most with the microwave being a close second. She wondered how many times he had cleaned his apartment since getting home. How many showers had he taken? When had enough become enough? She shook her head, trying to clear it. Right now she needed to concentrate on the present. First things first, she needed to let everyone know she had made contact. While the coffee finished brewing, she picked up Daniel's landline and dialed Colonel O'Neill.

"Daniel!" he answered the phone in an exasperated, yet grateful tone.

"It's me, sir," Sam said.

"Carter? Is he okay? I can be there in five minutes."

"He's okay, sir," she said quickly. "Well, he's alive."

"That bad." It wasn't a question, but a resignation.

"I'm going to stay for a while."

"Report back and 22:00. If you need help call earlier. I'll let Teal'c know we've finally gotten somewhere."

"I will, sir." She hung up.

The coffee was done, so she poured him a cup with extra creamer- just to get some extra calories in him- and opened the package of chocolate walnut cookies she'd bought- his favorite. Steeling herself for the confrontation, or worse- absolute passivity, she went to her friend. He startled when she sat down next to him on the floor.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"I forgot you were here," he admitted quietly.

"Cookie?" She put the container in front of him.

He barely spared them a glance and shook his head.

"Coffee?"

For a split second his eyes darted in her direction.

"Drinking may be easier than eating," Sam nudged the cup into his hands. "I got the vanilla creamer you like."

"I know you're trying to help, Sam, but I just want to be alone."

"That might be what you want, but it's not what you need."

"Sam..."

"I'm not leaving. You're not taking care of yourself and I won't let you keep doing that."

"You pulled the short straw, huh? Got stuck with babysitting duty."

"I care about you, Daniel. You're practically my brother. I can't stand by and watch you do this alone. If that means annoying you until you eat and take a shower, then that's what I'll do. If it means holding your hand or letting you yell and scream, or cry, or ignore me; I'll do that, too. But I'm doing it from here."

"I don't get a say in this?"

"Sure you do. Drink the coffee."

"Then you'll leave?"

"When I'm satisfied, yes."

Frowning to himself, but not arguing, Daniel took a drink. "I think I have some whiskey..." he thought out loud glancing to his left. Sam followed his gaze to an empty bottle that sat in the corner. "Huh," he grunted thoughtfully.

Sam hoped that he hadn't started with a full bottle and forgotten he'd finished it. That along with the wine he'd thought to throw away made her nervous. Daniel was known to have a few drinks, mostly with friends, but if he was self-medicating with alcohol... that was very un-Daniel like. She chose not to say anything, and just kept an eye on him as he drank the coffee sans booze. When he finished, she made him a second cup without him asking. Thankfully, he drank it without her asking. They sat, side by side on the floor and watched the sun start to set.

"I'm hungry," Sam said. The first words either spoke in several hours. "I'm making a pizza."

Daniel shrugged, noncommittal.

Let loose in her friend's kitchen, Sam made dinner for two. She was hopeful she could get him to at least eat some salad. And if she managed to keep him sober, maybe talk him into taking a sleeping pill tonight. Pushing herself to be optimistic, she set the table. As she clattered around in the kitchen, looking for salad tongs and a pizza cutter, Daniel wandered in.

"Put this on the table for me." Sam gave him the salad before he could do or say anything. Slightly bewildered, he obeyed. Trying to keep the momentum going she handed him two glasses when he came back in. The second time he returned he rebuffed her attempt to get him to take the pizza and went for the wine. Before she could stop him, he opened a fresh bottle and went to the table with it. Re-evaluating her plan of attack, she followed. Sleeping pills were not an option anymore as she watched him pour over half a bottle into the glass she had hoped to fill with water or milk.

"Want some?" he offered.

"Sure." At least he couldn't drink what she did. And it wouldn't hurt her to spend the night and keep an eye on him. "Will you sit with me?" she asked. "Try to eat something?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Still not satisfied?"

"Not in the slightest."

Daniel sat at the table and made a good faith attempt to eat the dinner Sam had made. Frozen pizza and salad was a normal dinner for their get-togethers. Sometimes they got together to watch documentaries. Sometimes they got together to talk science or philosophy. Or go to museums. Or art show openings. Or the occasional lecture the University or Air Force Academy were putting on. It wasn't that Jack and Teal'c weren't invited so much as they just didn't tell them the get-togethers were happening. They didn't do it to be mean. But they did it. Tonight had all the hallmarks of one of those get-togethers: dinner, drinks, Daniel even reflexively turned on some music. But the atmosphere was all wrong. The conversation refused to come, so they sat silently playing with their food.

"Sorry I'm such bad company," Daniel said, picking a pepperoni off his pizza slice.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"It's not your fault, you know. You were ra-"

"I know what happened," he cut her off mid-word. "I was there."

"You didn't have any control over it."

"I don't need you to explain the definition to me, Sam," he snapped. It was the most emotion he'd shown all day. The most words he'd said at the same time. "I've done the training, too, you know. Every year when I was a TA. I know what you're doing. I know what you're looking for. I know, okay? I'm not stupid."

"Intelligence has nothing to do with it, Daniel. Do you know that, too?"

"Sam..." he groaned, pushing away from the table, but not getting up.

"What?" she pressed. "What do you expect me to say, Daniel? I understand that you're angry and upset and you don't know which way's up right now. I get it. I'm here to help you."

"You don't get it," he insisted.

"Why? It's so different because you're a man?" she asked, trying not to get defensive. "Rape is rape, Daniel. It doesn't matter who it happens to, it's the same thing."

"See? You see?" he jumped to his feet. "You don't understand. You think you do, but you don't. You just... you..." He fumbled over his words.

"Explain it to me, then. What don't I understand?" Sadly, she'd been in this situation before. As an officer, it was one of the worst parts of her job. If a subordinate came to her, she had been trained in what to do. She'd put that training to use before, admittedly, never for a friend.

"I got her pregnant!" he exploded. "I didn't even want to be there and I got her pregnant!"

Sam was taken aback. "That's not your fault, either. It's a biological function; it happens if you want it to or not." She stood up and tried to approach him, but he jerked away before she got close enough to touch him.

"Then why couldn't I do it when I wanted to?" He glared at her from a safe distance.

"When did you..." she couldn't follow his logic leap.

"Everyday, every god damned day," he ranted. "Twice a day, three times even. And nothing! Nothing! Every twenty-eight days... just nothing!"

Sam stared at him as he began frantically pacing the floor, arms flailing. It was a startling contrast from the morose statue he had been all day.

"The first time, she cried," he stopped pacing and turned to Sam. "She begged me not to be angry with her. The second time she couldn't bring herself to face me. She sent Skaara."

"Oh, Daniel..." Sam realized what he was so upset about.

"Kasuif gave me speeches about how the gods would bless us in time. It never worked. Nothing we did. Every superstition, every old wives tale, any piece of advice from the elders: potions, fasts, weird algea...things..." He sank onto the couch. "It wasn't her. I thought it was me. I thought maybe I... I don't know, that there was something wrong with me. I wanted something to be wrong with me." His voice broke and he looked up at her. He swallowed, fighting the lump in his throat. "There's nothing wrong with me. If there's nothing wrong with me... why couldn't I..."

Sam approached him carefully, and when he didn't flinch away sat next to him. "I'm so sorry," she put her arm around his shoulders. "I didn't know."

"How can I face her now?" Daniel asked. "The one thing she wanted from me and I gave it to... to a- to a Gou'ald."

The words were spilling out faster than he thought of them. It was too much to bear, not being able to have a child with his wife. Both of them had wanted it so badly. He'd gone through with every Abadonian ritual and tradition Sha're asked of him. He tried to convince himself he was humoring her, but deep down he hoped that the ancient magic might work. That maybe this was one of those things that primitive cultures actually understood more. He hoped that if he was thinking about it as an experiment, as an anthropological study like back in his college days, he would relax and things would happen naturally.

Nothing worked. Every twenty-eight days, like clockwork, Sha're endured the shame of being a married woman secluded in the women's tent and Daniel endured the curious stares and behind the back whispers of the villagers as he went about his business. There was a theory going about that the man from the stars displeased the gods and they were marking his wife barren as punishment. Daniel preferred everyone think it was his fault rather than her's.

"I thought maybe even, that maybe we just weren't compatible. We evolved similarly, but something in our environments changed us enough that we couldn't have children together," he added quietly. "Then _she_ got pregnant on the first try."

Sam felt his shoulders slump a fraction of a moment before he leaned into her shoulder. Instinctually, Sam held onto him as long as he would allow. He didn't cry, though she fully expected him to. But, he allowed her to hug him and eventually hugged her back before sitting up again.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking embarrassed. "It's not your problem. I shouldn't have said anything."

"I talk to you about my problems," she reminded him. "It's past time I returned the favor. Unless you'd rather talk to the Colonel," she hedged. "Or Teal'c, or even Dr. MacKinzie."

"Can we keep this between us?" he asked, still not looking at her. "I don't want everyone knowing this, too."

"Everything you say tonight is completely private," she swore to him.

"Thanks."

He wouldn't look at her or allow his shoulder to touch hers as they sat side by side on his couch. Sam waited for him to make the next move. It was an hour before he spoke again.

"What am I going to say to her?" he asked. The apartment was dark except for the kitchen light and the vague glow from a streetlight below.

"What do you mean?"

"How am I going to tell my wife that I got another woman pregnant after I couldn't do it for her?"

"I don't know Sha're well," Sam allowed, "But from what you've told me about her she's a smart, caring, and understanding woman. I think if anyone is going to understand how little choice you had in the matter, it's her."

Daniel didn't answer, so Sam continued.

"If the roles were reversed and you found out that a Goa'uld impregnated Sha're, would you be angry with her?"

"No," he answered instantly, appalled that she thought he may.

"So why would she think any differently? She's been made a host, she knows how powerful they can be."

"It's not the same."

"Why?"

"It's just not."

"Okay, assuming that this is different. Why would she be angry with you? If she loves you a fraction of how much you love her, you'll work through it together," Sam told him earnestly.

"I don't know what to do," Daniel admitted.

"Maybe get some sleep?" she offered.

"No," he shook his head emphatically. "Sleep just makes it worse."

"Have you tried the pills Janet gave you?" Sam tried gently. She wasn't supposed to know about the prescriptions. She only knew because she snooped.

If it bothered him that she knew, he didn't let it show. He shook his head again. "It just made the nightmares more vivid."

"So you've been drinking instead," she wanted to hug him again. "Daniel..."

"Don't lecture me, Sam." It wasn't his usual irritated demand when he thought someone was talking down to him. He sounded resigned. He knew he was making bad decisions, but he didn't want anyone to stop him, either.

"I'll make you a deal," she offered. "You let me crash here tonight and help, and in exchange, I won't lecture you."

"Or tell Jack," Daniel added. "Or anyone."

Sam took a breath and thought her words through carefully. "I won't tell anyone anything you've told me," she promised. His actions, on the other hand, concerned her. She felt bad taking advantage of his wine-muddled head, but it worked and he agreed to let her stay.

"Tell me more about Sha're," she prompted.

Daniel stood up and began aimlessly wandering around his apartment, thinking. "She thought everything was magic," he said softly, looking at his stereo. "My pens, Jack's lighter, even my glasses amazed her. She was smart, though," he added looking at Sam to make sure she understood he wasn't making fun of his wife. "She learned how to read and write faster than anybody. She was so good, she could even help me translate. We would take turns reading aloud and writing. Two people can make transcribing go much faster. Archaeology is so competitive no one ever really helps anyone else. Even if you have a research assistant they're usually anxious to make a name for themselves... I was the same way. I helped the professors I worked for enough to be useful to keep around, but my eye was always on the next rung of the ladder. Having someone around to help who just wanted to be helpful was refreshing. And getting to spend the time with her was pretty nice, too," he added. "Sometimes we... got distracted."

"Did you two run off behind the bleachers?" Sam asked with a grin.

"We were newlyweds, so people expected us to, ahem, disappear with some regularity."

Sam chuckled. "Couple a' teenagers."

"Pretty much," he admitted with a self-aware smirk. Sadness flashed behind his eyes, for a moment, and he retrieved his glass of wine from the table. He took a few drinks and sighed. "I miss her so much, Sam. It physically hurts sometimes. I feel like I'm broken."

"Getting yourself drunk and hiding isn't going to help anything," Sam told him carefully.

"I don't know what else to do." He turned to look at her, begging her for the answer.

"You hold yourself together," Sam told him. "You build a life you want to introduce her to. No matter what happens it's going to be difficult. There's no reason to make it any harder."

"What if I can't?"

"Try again tomorrow."

Daniel snorted, bitterly. "Fake it until you make it."

"No. Work on it until you get it right," she corrected him. "It's like any skill; it doesn't happen overnight. You have to be willing to work at it."

Daniel contemplated his wine. "Can I start working on it tomorrow?" he asked softly, swirling what little Merlot was left in his glass.

Sam smiled at him, trying to be encouraging. "Tomorrow morning at 04:00 you start," she told him. "And then if you don't get it right, you try again at 04:00 the next morning. The clock resets."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It's not," she admitted. "But you can call me anytime-" the phone rang, interrupting her mid-reassurance.

Daniel rolled his eyes and looked at the clock. "That's either Jack or Teal'c," he said.

"I'll handle it," Sam said, not waiting for his permission when she reached for the phone. It was past check-in time with the Colonel.

"Carter," he snapped when she answered.

"Hi, sir," she said in a tone he hopefully knew meant Daniel could hear them this time.

"How's he doing?" Jack asked.

"We're having dinner," she answered cryptically, trying not to look at Daniel. She felt suddenly guilty for the snooping and plotting behind her friend's back, even though she knew it was the right thing to do.

"Check in tomorrow when you can talk," Jack told her.

"Goodnight, sir." She hung up.

"You aren't going to get in trouble are you?" Daniel asked. "For not telling Jack? I mean, I know you have regulations and…" He didn't look her in the eye when he walked past her into the kitchen for another bottle of wine to refill his empty glass.

"Daniel, there is no rule that says I have to tell the Colonel everything that happens to me. I'm allowed to have a personal life." She tried not to visibly wince as he walked back into the living room with his liquid dinner.

"I just don't want you to get in trouble."

She smiled at him and gave him a hug before guiding him back to sit on the couch. "I won't. I promise."

Daniel finished his wine as they once again sat in silence. Sam leaned against him as they sat on the couch, using his drunken propensity for cuddling against him to read his body tension. He was starting to relax and sink into the cushions, letting his arm hang heavy around her shoulders.

"I hate to say it, Daniel," she admitted, pulling away from him. "But you smell pretty bad." She made a face, wrinkling her nose.

"Sorry." He scooted away.

"Why don't you take a shower and I'll take care of our mess," Sam coached a little harder when he didn't take the hint.

He stood, swaying a bit on his feet after a bottle and a half of wine and barely any food. "You don't have to, I can clean up."

"I thought I was staying over?" she asked. "That was our deal, wasn't it?"

"Oh," he blinked a few times, trying to recall. "Oh, okay, of course."

Sam stood up, took the empty glass out of his hand and steered him toward the bathroom. "Take your time."

When Daniel emerged almost forty-five minutes later, he looked like the weight of the galaxy had been lifted off his shoulders. He still hadn't shaved and his hair was wet, hanging in his eyes, but he looked himself again. Several of the years that his anxiety and worry had given him had been erased again. There was a light behind his eyes, even though Sam was pretty sure the color in his cheeks was more alcohol-induced than anything.

"I think maybe I should have some water," he told her with a self-conscious smirk, going into the kitchen.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Cleaner." His head was already starting to hurt; he was not looking forward to the hangover that was going to hit him in the morning.

"Think you could get some sleep?"

He gave it genuine consideration. "I can't avoid it forever."

Sam gave him a smile, trying to be supportive and not condescending. "I'll be here, you know. If anything happens or if you need to talk, or anything else."

He gave her a tight smile in return. "I know, Sam."

Daniel stood in the kitchen, lingering, stalling. Sam called his bluff and started getting ready to bed down herself. She kicked off her shoes and helped herself to blankets and pillows from the trunk next to the couch. She snuggled down into a comfortable sleeping position and turned off the lamp.

"Good night, Daniel," she said meaningfully.

"Oh, uh, right. Night, Sam."

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Alright, Dannyboy, I know you're a bit out of practice but get a move on already," Jack grumbled from the doorway of Daniel's lab. The younger man was packing his gear bag full of reference materials and do-dads that the elder didn't understand or really care about. The mission and been green-lit and they were finally going back off-world.

Daniel checked his watch. "I still have twenty minutes," he protested.

"Lead. Out." Jack enunciated carefully.

"10-4, Colonel," Daniel shot back, irritated.

"Copy," Jack corrected him. "And you forgot the 'sir',"

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen."

"You guys almost ready?" Sam approached from around the corner. "We ship out in less than twenty minutes."

"Tell that to him," Jack snapped. "He wants to bring the whole damn base with him."

"Just the information I need to translate the text on the obelisk so we can find if there is any truth to the rumors of a weapon's cache on P3X-77R," Daniel snapped back.

"Carter, it is your responsibility to get Cassanova to the gate on time, understood?"

"Cassanova?" Sam and Daniel repeated together.

"Yeah, he was a librarian on top of being famous with the ladies," Jack explained himself.

"I'm… I'm not a librarian," Daniel sputtered.

"Interesting that that is what you choose to protest," Jack pointed out loftily before turning on his heel and sauntering away. "T minus thirteen minutes, kids!" he called before turning the corner.

"You need help?" Sam asked after a few seconds of confused silence.

"No, I'm all packed." Daniel pointed at a packed and ready to go kit bag in the corner. "I was just messing with him."

Sam snickered, she couldn't help herself. It had been almost two weeks since Hathor, a week and a half since she forced her way into Daniel's apartment, it was exciting to see the old Daniel coming back.

"Let's go, then," Sam reached for his packed bag.

"Hey, Sam, um…." Daniel stopped her. "Just, well, thank you," he said, fiddling with a pen on his lab table.

"Daniel you don't have to."

"I don't think I would have passed MacKinzie's psych evaluation if you hadn't forced to move forward," he attempted eye contact but went back to his pen. "I've never been very good at… well, I not very good at lots of stuff… and, it's just… it's just that I need someone to push me or I'll just stay stuck where I am sometimes. Not a lot of people are willing to push and I never know how to ask…I just wanted to say thank you for being willing to push me and realizing when I needed it."

"I will be your designated pusher," Sam smiled at him. "And maybe someday you'll learn to ask for it."

"Thank you." This time Daniel was able to make eye contact and offered a smile of his own.

"Speaking of asking for it," Sam looked at the clock on the wall. "We need to get to the gate room now."

Daniel grabbed his gear and gestured for Sam to go ahead of him. "Pushers first."

He glanced at his watch as they waited for the elevator. Sam knew what he was doing; he wasn't worried about making it to the gate room in time, he was checking to see how much longer he had until the 4 a.m. deadline she had given him. The elevator was empty when it arrived. They bordered and as they descended to the lower levels of the SGC, Sam scooted closer to Daniel.

He noticed her hovering and frowned at her but before he could ask what she was doing she shoved him. He lost his balance, not expecting the blow, and fell into the wall.

"What was that for?" he demanded in disbelief.

"You needed it."

The elevator stopped and Sam walked out, leaving Daniel behind.

He chuckled and shook his head. "She's right," he told himself.

He allowed himself a split second to get himself together and stepped out into the hall. The team was waiting, Jack pointedly looking at his watch as Daniel approached. Daniel shrugged innocently and walked straight into the gate room.

"Carter?" Jack asked his second in command.

"I got him here as ordered, sir," Sam answered adjusting her pack.

"The other thing?"

"I'll get him there," she promised.


End file.
